


page of wands, king of cups

by darkmagicians



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Gen, Tarot, spoilers through the end of the game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:34:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25835830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkmagicians/pseuds/darkmagicians
Summary: Gladio reads tarot cards, neglects to take some warnings to heart, and gets gutted by the truth of others.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia & Prompto Argentum & Noctis Lucis Caelum & Ignis Scientia
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	page of wands, king of cups

No one in Insomnia, and certainly not anyone who worked in the Citadel, would consider themselves superstitious. They worked for old kings in older halls, surrounded by truly ancient magic. The ink under his skin, under his father’s skin, and his father’s father’s skin marked them for a creature more myth than blood, a charm forced into effectiveness more than a mere symbol. Those in the inner circles, who knew what it meant to grasp steel out of the air, shattering into being, who saw flames dance up their comrade’s arms without burning in aid of their king, who whispered of feathers that could bring back the dead and needles that could soften stone –

Superstition was cheap when you knew some things more surely than you knew the sun would rise every morning.

But still, in the court a number of mystical tools went in and out of vogue, talking boards, pendulums that swung to the whispered names of the Six, even Oracle decks, which were considered blasphemous at the time and therefore still insanely popular. It was the Oracle’s place to speak to the Gods for men, and the Messengers to speak to men for the Gods – but why wait for a Messenger?

Gladio? Had tried out an Oracle deck for Bahamut his fourteenth year with Iris. They’d both sworn to never touch the things again.

No, Gladio’s preferred tool had settled on tarot cards, similar but less playing with fire and more reading symbols in the flames from a safe distance. They’d become popular again when he was in high school and it was a fun party trick, an easy booth to do for school holiday festivals, when he could be there and wasn’t required to be at Noctis’ side for ceremonies. His father didn’t terribly approve, but neither did most of his generation – and anyway that had always been part of the fun for the court, the most shocking mystic tools to worm their way into soirees and to gossip over. So, they stayed in Gladio’s hands, and when he looked at them while packing for The Roadtrip, he’d thought about the comforting clack of the thin splices of wood and thrown it in the bag, kicking out his least favorite novel.

The second night after Hammerhead, when everyone had settled down from the aggravation of the car breaking down and was beginning to look forward to the promised splendors of Galdin Quay, he took them out.

Prompto crowed in triumph when he saw them and even his royal surliness smiled a bit and they settled down while Ignis kept an eye on dinner. It was a practiced motion to him, shuffling with intent – Prompto had insisted they ask the deck how their trip was going to go, still excited despite their minor setbacks so far. He pulled three cards and carelessly leaned back, picture of ease, intent and glowing by firelight. Perfect atmosphere for these things. The first card turned over, Page of Wands – easy enough, clearly them, probably specifically Noctis, they were on this trip for him, after all. The second card flipped, Three of Wands inverted, and wasn't that funny. Minor obstacles and delays. Prompto made a quip about meaning to ask the deck about the _future_ , and Gladio told him where he could stow his lip. 

The last card flipped Five of Cups, and it didn't take someone who knew the cards well to catch the symbolism on it - a woman crying, cups scattered at her feet.

_Loss and grief. Missed opportunities. Self-pity and regret._

"So that's not great." Noctis said, though a bit questioningly. He'd never bothered to remember all the symbolism even after years. Gladio had never minded, getting to play the interpreter was what made this fun.

“It’s not… great.” He agreed. "But not all of the cups are overturned yet, see?" Not yet anyway. Noctis and Prompto hummed appreciatively. And then Noctis said to ask about Prompto's love life, and Prompto shoved him, and Noctis ruffled his hair... and they moved on. He put it out of mind until they were standing on a hill looking over Insomnia. When he hung up on Iris's voicemail, the memory of the cards in the firelight hit him all over again.

* * *

They were busy, and he was not infrequently grating on Noctis or vice versa, so it was a while before the cards were seriously pulled out again other than him shuffling them comfortingly at camp or pulling an odd card for the day. They were at Cape Caem and tomorrow would head for Altissia. The safehouse had so quickly become a place that Gladio at least could sometimes fool himself into thinking of as... just a home. But he supposed having Iris there helped a lot with that. 

The mood was more hopeful than it'd been for weeks, buoyed at the idea of finally achieving at least some part of what they'd set out to do. So as the fire died down and dessert was put away and most of the others retired, he pulled out the cards for the five of them, king, shield, sister, hand, sharpshooter.

In retrospect he wouldn't even remember the spread he'd ended up with - something representing probably Lunafreya. Something for lack of communication, for bonds sundered. What he would remember is pulling The Tower, Leviathan's coils crushing an Altissian spire in her clutches. He'd remember freezing for a moment staring at the card.

"What is it?" Iris had asked, leaning forward. He startled and pushed the card back into the midst of the deck.

"Ah, I dunno how to interpret that one. I'm gonna try again."

"You should've let me give it a go!" Iris pouted, and the moment was passed over. Ignis had caught his gaze questioningly, but he'd let it slide.

Soon Ignis would never catch anyone's eyes with his own, purposefully, again.

Gladio left The Tower card in pieces in the dirty floodwaters of Altissia. He couldn't bear to see it again. In the moment he'd fail to heed the warning of the last card about broken bonds and failures to communicate, and he lost his king, and they lost the sun, and.

* * *

He didn't really bring the cards out in the following years. No one really asked, such courtly trivialities not having much of a place in their new world. Sometimes he'd pull a card just for himself, for the day, for a query. But they were still in his pack when Noctis returned. No one asked that night at camp - clutching to rapidly diminishing time together, such diversions weren't the priority. And really, they all had a sense of what the next day would bring. But before he turned in, when everyone was doing their own preparations, his hands brushed the box the cards lay in. He brought it out, let it lay in his lap for a moment. Sighed, shuffled, and selected three cards.

King of Cups.

Ten of Swords.

The World.

He took a deep breath. 

He did not drop his head into his hands and cry.

He couldn't. He couldn't. He _couldn't._

He had to.

When dawn rose, the cards were left scattered on the muddy border of their last camp.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a long time ago when someone brought up Gladio or others reading tarot in the FFXV Book Club discord, but only remembered I wrote it the other day lmao. Thanks for reading!


End file.
